


Life Goes On

by austinendstheworld



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, combination of the book and movie canons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-04 10:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14590965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/austinendstheworld/pseuds/austinendstheworld
Summary: At age 13, Eddie Kaspbrak never makes it out of the sewers. Just don't tell him that.





	1. chapter one

For the first time that he could remember, Eddie Kaspbrak had no idea where he was. He sat up from the cold, damp concrete, blinking. There was no discernible difference between what he saw when his eyes were closed and when they were open. It was all featureless darkness, close and vast at the same time. At first, he thought he must have gone blind. The thought made his throat strain, the beginnings of an asthma attack-- or at least, what he used to think were asthma attacks. Ever since his visit in the back office with Mr. Bowie, visceral memories of licorice and knocked-over milkshakes swirling in his mind, he had no real grasp of what they were outside of the “mental weakness” that Bowie had so dryly remarked upon. And it must’ve been true because even knowing that he didn’t have asthma his throat was still crying out for his aspirator.

He blinked again, rapidly, turning in all directions but there was nothing to be seen but black and black and black. He’d heard once that a kid had fallen out of his bed at night and hit his head in just the wrong way so that he’d gone blind for the rest of his life. Was that what had happened to him? He brushed his hand along the floor and registered that it was concrete, not carpet or even hardwood. He wasn’t in his house he was--

The memories came back to him and he immediately wished that they hadn’t. He remembered being chased by Bowers and his gang. Having to be helped down the ladder because of his broken arm. He and his friends making their way through grey water and sewage by way of Eddie’s impeccable navigation and the light of a few measly matches.

Eddie could hear the water now, and worst of all, smell it so strongly that he wasn’t sure how the fact of his location wasn’t the first thing he’d noticed upon waking. He was underneath Derry, in the sewers.

“Bill?” he cried out as loudly as he could with his constricting airway. “Richie? Bev? Anyone? Anyone, please…” Anyone except It, that is.

But he already knew he was alone. There were no sounds of footfalls interrupting the streams of water, no wisecracks from Richie echoing through the tunnels along with half-hearted laughs or beep-beeps.

Hopefully, he was alone, hopefully, It wasn’t lurking somewhere. He realized it could be within an arm’s reach of him and he wouldn’t know any better in this blackness.

He tried to recall just how he had ended up by himself-- God, he wasn’t supposed to be alone they were supposed to stay together, because if they had any chance in hell of defeating It, it would have to be while they were together-- but his mind failed him.

He remembered the beginning of the journey, the threats of Henry Bowers at their heels, the light peeking through the storm drains above them. And then they went deeper into the sewers further underground. They had found Its lair, hadn’t they? He remembered seeing the web, the bodies, the raincoat. He remembered reaching for his aspirator, but not to use it for his lungs, for something else, but everything went blurry from there, whatever else that had happened had faded into the blackness around him.

He didn’t know what had happened to the others, or to himself, or to It.

What if I’m the only one left?

By this point, he had given up any chance of avoiding an asthma attack, or whatever the hell it is they were. His breathing was ragged and fruitless, he could feel himself becoming light-headed, he felt like he might just float away and to think like that was awful because it spurred a whole new, horrifying train of thought. Was this it? Was he dead? Was he going to float, because It had killed him?

He collapsed back onto the concrete clutching at himself. After a few moments of pure panic and an endless barrage of tears, he managed to reason that he was probably not dead since he seemed to need air quite desperately. From there, he worried that he might die from an asthma attack even though he didn’t really have asthma, but surely if it had gotten this bad again he did? It couldn’t be imaginary because then it would have gone away once he had found out, wouldn’t it? There was definitely something wrong with him. He couldn’t tell for sure what it was, yes, but there had to be something and he hated the thought that that was a comfort to him. Hands trembling, he reached for the aspirator he knew couldn’t possibly still be in his fanny pack, because he remembered using it, remembered using it against It somehow, remembered that using it that way had a certain finality to it.

But somehow it was there, right next to a roll of bandages. He placed it between his lips and triggered, inhaling as deeply as he could. Once, twice, three times and he could breathe again. Shakily, he got to his feet and set about doing the only thing that he could. He began to stumble blindly through the sewers, praying that he could find a way out before It found him or he starved to death or something.

Surely, he told himself, the others are looking for me. Surely they’re okay and we’ll all leave the sewers the same as we entered them, together.

 

Eddie’s time in the sewers was relatively uneventful. Sure, that probably isn’t how he himself would describe it, but there isn’t much to say about the hours he spent wandering around in the dark except that he kept his breakdowns at bay by using thoughts of his friends to strengthen him in the way that only his friends could. When exhaustion came, he thought of Stan, a soul that seemed too tired for this world already that somehow still hung on. When fear came, he thought of Bev and the way she didn’t waver even though she was just as scared as everyone else, just as scared as Eddie. When uncertainty came he thought of Big Bill and how hard he fought for Georgie’s sake. When thoughts that his friends might have abandoned him came, he thought of Mike and knew it was all just paranoia. When thoughts that he was too weak to make it through this came, he thought of Ben and the scar left on his stomach by Henry Bowers. And when tears came, he thought of Richie, of his lame jokes and incessant talking and the way he often had Eddie fighting off a smile even as he deadpanned the words “beep beep”.

It was in that way, and perhaps with a bit of luck that he found himself once again in the shallowest part of the sewers beneath Derry, the place where light could be seen through the slats of storm drains. Eddies eyes burned with tears of relief, and he thought of Richie again.

He quickly realized that just because his path was lit did not make him any less lost. His unfailing sense of direction was useless unless he knew where he was coming from. His first instinct from there was to try and crawl out onto the street from one of the storm drains, but he quickly realized he couldn’t boost himself up to that height with only one good arm, and maybe not even if he’d had both. He stared out onto the black road, guessing from the lighting that it was evening. He saw the wheels of cars roll by but not much else. If only he could somehow get at the right angle to see a street sign, maybe then he could figure out where he was and find his way back to the entrance in the Barrens. He was trying to do just that when a pair of sneakers began to walk past the storm drain.

“H-Hey!” Eddie shouted, his voice coming out scratchily from hours of just barely holding back panic. “Hey, down here! Help me, please!”

The sneakers stopped mid-stride. The all-too-familiar voice of Bill Denbrough said down to him with a heavy tone, “You really t-t-think I’m gonna fuh-fall for that?”

“Bill?” It struck Eddie suddenly that, since he was a voice calling out from the sewer, Bill must have mistaken him for Pennywise. “Bill it’s me, I swear. I got lost down here, I don’t remember… how did you get out of the sewers?”

“Nice t-try, but Eddie n-never got lost,” Bill said. What was that supposed to mean?

“Look, I know it looks bad, me being in a storm drain and everything Big Bill, but--”

“You s-shut the hell up,” Bill spat. “Y-you may have scared me w-wuh-when you wore G-g-georgie’s face but I’m n-not gonna let you use E-eddie’s. I kn-knew you weren’t dead, I kn-kn-knew it and you h-haven’t scared me n-now, now all you’ve done is s-save me the rest of the walk t-to Neibolt house. My friends and I are g-gonna come back for you now, and this t-time we’ll k-kill you for real,” his sneakers turned on their heels and strode away.

“Bill…” Eddie knew it was fruitless. Bill was completely convinced that he was Pennywise. It dawned on him that Bill probably thought that he was dead. But he pushed that thought aside for a more useful one. Bill said he had saved him the rest of the walk to the house on Neibolt street, which gave Eddie a vague idea where he was. That turned out to be enough. From then on, every turn was met with a good degree of confidence, and it only took another hour or so for Eddie to emerge into the Barrens, catching the last of the fading evening light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie reaches out to his best friend Richie, hoping for answers.

Cold and alone, Eddie took a moment to breathe in the humid air of the barrens. Climbing out of the sewers with a broken arm was no easy task, but he had managed. Night was settling in around him. He stood, letting the relief of finally being outside pour over his mind. With a deep breath, he began to plan out his next move.

 

For obvious reasons, his own house was out of the question. After Bill’s reaction to seeing him earlier today, he figured that wouldn’t be a wise choice either. He tried to shove aside mental images of Bill bludgeoning him half to death, unwilling to believe that he wasn’t It. The most logical choice was Richie. He might not be the closest, but he was closer than Mike or Ben and less likely to react to his presence like Bill had. Stan’s house was a couple of blocks nearer, but if everyone was going to initially think that he was Pennywise playing some sort of trick, he knew that Richie would cope better. Richie seemed to almost never lose his cool. It wasn’t until the smile was wiped off his face and the wisecracks stopped flowing from his lips that you knew you were in trouble. 

 

_ It’s not like I’m looking up to that idiot,  _ Eddie reassured himself.  _ It’s just a fact.  _ Richie’s jokes may be tiresome, but they did serve a purpose.

 

He started the walk to Richie’s house on legs that were weak with exhaustion. It was taking more self control than he’d like to admit to not just curl up on the ground. As unclean as it was, he was a thousand times worse thanks to his excursion in the sewers. But he forced his legs to carry him through the streets of Derry for the promise of a shower and a soft place to sleep.

 

Eddie almost walked right past it without noticing. Derry being what it is, the sight of a missing child poster was commonplace. It was, however, not every day that you saw your own face staring back at you from one. Eddie immediately tore it down from where it was stapled to the wooden pole of a power line. 

 

He saw himself in black and white, unblinking. Above his picture “MISSING” was printed bold and in all caps. Below his picture, the poster read:

 

   EDWARD KASPBRAK

AGE: 13

SEX: MALE

HAIR: BROWN

EYES:BROWN

LAST SEEN: 08/09/89

IF SEEN, DO NOT HESITATE TO CONTACT THE DERRY POLICE DEPARTMENT

(207) 897-0065

 

For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, his lungs began to whimper. He remembered Richie’s breakdown in Neibolt house all to well, and considered the possibility that his poster was a fake like Richie’s had been, but he wasn’t convinced. If the clown was still around and wanted to scare him, and then, presumably, kill him, he felt like it wouldn’t have passed up the chance It’d had while Eddie had been blindly stumbling around the sewers all day. But if It was really dead, why had he gone missing? And just how long had he been in the sewers? If there were already posters of him plastered up all over town it had to have been at least a day or two. He tried again to remember what had happened. Nothing came back to him.

 

His first thought once he managed to shove aside the initial panic was that he should turn around and head home. His mom must have been in hysterics, the woman had once sobbed herself half to death because Eddie had gotten a bee sting, there was no way she was coping well thinking that he had gone missing. But then thoughts of their confrontation came back to him. Her lies, and the justification for them, almost more horrifying than the lies themselves. There was a certain insidiousness to Sonia Kaspbrak’s coddling. Something dark in the way she insisted Eddie was  _ too delicate.  _ Too fragile to play baseball, too sensitive to be allowed as much time as he wanted with his friends, too weak to be let out of the house if there was the slightest hint he might have the beginnings of a cold. The part of him that saw the darkness thinly veiled beneath Sonia’s concern knew that he couldn’t go home, because after this, she might never let him out of her sight again. 

 

He folded up his missing poster and stuck it in his pocket as he continued the walk to his friend’s house. The rest of the way over, he kept his eye out for missing posters of any of the other losers, but he only saw his, over and over again.

 

It seemed to take no less than an eternity, but his did eventually find himself on Richie’s doorstep. He wasted no time pounding his fist on the door. Usually, he’d be more considerate of the time, but he was soaked in sewer water and at this point, even if Richie’s Mom or Dad were to open the door instead of the trashmouth himself, they’d have to be evil not to let him in for a shower.

  
  
  


Richie Tozier was having the worst week of his entire life. Though it was only the worst week because the unthinkable had happened a mere six days before. He was certain that given time it would become the worst two weeks, then the worst month, then the worst year. But nothing, no matter how long he lived, would be worse than what had come six days before. As Richie Tozier watched his best friend die, it was as if all the color in his life had drained out of him as the blood poured out of Eddie. When they had gone to Neibolt house before, Richie thought that he finally understood mortality. But it was one thing to know his friends could die, and an entirely different thing to watch it happen, to just barely be able to see the far away look in Eddie’s eyes through his own tears, to feel someone he loved disappear even though he was holding on as tightly as he could.

 

Richie wasn’t the type to sit around crying, but grief was tearing at him in a different way. He no longer spoke in voices and his stack of comic books went untouched and his room, usually full of laughter or music, was silent. His parents had started whispering about taking him to see someone. It was amazing how far the sound travelled when it didn’t have any competition. The idea of seeing a shrink was about as appealing as unbuttered toast. He couldn’t imagine therapy helping him much when any honesty about what had happened would most likely land him in Juniper Hill. More than that, he didn’t think anything could help. Eddie was gone, and evil existed strongly in this world. And there was nothing that Richie could do about that, so he might as well do nothing.

 

Thoughts like that circled endlessly in his tired mind, and any interruption to them felt unwelcome and pointless. If he had known it was Eddie pounding at the door he would have vaulted to his feet in an instant. But as it was, he just closed his eyes even tighter at the racket. The noise continued for far too long to be reasonable. Richie pressed the sides of his pillow against his ears and groaned.

 

“Mooom,” he whined, “will you get the door?”

 

Maggie Tozier peaked her head in the door, “What is it, honey?”

 

“Would you mind getting the door? Oh, and if its Bill again will you tell him to never come back?”

 

“There’s no one at the door, sweetie.”

 

“Then what’s that sound?” The pounding continued, perfectly audible above their conversation.

 

His mother’s face crumpled with concern. “Richie, are you feeling alright?”

 

_ She can’t hear it,  _ he realized.  _ Why can’t she hear it?  _ “I-uhm must’ve just imagined it. I’m just really tired,” he pulled the blankets up to his chin as if to prove it.

 

Maggie didn’t seemed convinced. “Well, alright dear, just try and get some rest for tonight, okay?”

 

“Yes, mom.”

 

She turned out the light and closed the door, and Richie waited anxiously for her footsteps to disappear down the hall. Once he heard the telling click of his parent’s bedroom door closing, he flung himself out of bed and bounded down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could.

 

He opened the front door, catching Eddie Kaspbrak mid-knock, and the very instant his mind processed what he was seeing, his heart seemed to attempt to crawl up his throat. His eyes were so wide open they seemed at risk of falling out of their sockets.

  
  


Eddie reflexively lifted his hands, as if to show surrender. “It’s me, I swear,” he said. The sight of Richie, albeit a very traumatized looking Richie, was just as hopeful as the first glimpse of light he’d caught while wandering alone through the sewers.

 

“If it's really you, then how did you get here,” he said it almost like a threat, the look in his eyes desperate, making it clear that the sight of Eddie was leaving him slammed with conflicting emotions. 

 

_ He must’ve really thought he’d never see me again,  _ Eddie realized.  _ They all must have. _

 

“What happened in the sewers?” Eddie breathed. “I mean, I woke up, and I was alone, and it was pitch black and I had no idea where I was,” his throat was starting to constrict again just thinking about it. “Why...why was I alone? It took me all day to find my way out, the whole time I was looking for you guys, but...but you were out here the whole time and I… I…” He closed his eyes in attempt to stop tears from welling.

 

What initially seemed to be a tackle from Richie eventually revealed itself to be a forceful, determined hug. “So, if this is all a trick, this is the part where you tilt your head back and grow a thousand rows of teeth and eat my flesh or whatever, isn’t it?”

 

Eddie could feel Richie’s breath warm on his neck, the first warmth he could remember felt since entering the sewers. “It’s not a trick, Rich.”

 

Richie pulled partway out of the hug, a smile revealing teeth that were practically begging to have braces put on them. “Good,” he said slipping into one of his terrible accents, “I’d hate to ‘ave to bash in such a pretty face, so I would.”

 

“Just shut up and let me in you idiot, I need a shower.”

 

Richie’s voice changed from British to Southern Belle. “Why, Edward,” he put one hand to his heart, feigning embarrassment, “A gentleman can’t  _ simply  _ be so  _ forward. _ ”

 

“Beep-beep Richie,” he said, pulling the rest of the way out of the hug. “Come on, I’m soaked in grey water right now. Do you have any idea how much bacteria must be--”

 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, and then added a caution to be quiet as they entered his house, for Richie’s parents sake.

 

“Why? They definitely heard me knocking. And your parents are gonna notice I’m here in a second, it’s not like you ever make use of the shower.”

 

Richie gave him a strange look. Within a second, he was blinking it away as he clapped his hand against Eddie’s back and announced, “Eddie Kaspbrak gets off a good one, folks.”

  
  


The warm water seemed to do nothing for him. Eddie scrubbed at his skin anxiously, as if he could get rid of more than just the grime. But even though the faucet was set as hot as it could go, his teeth were chattering.  _ Their water heater must be broken or something,  _ he realized,  _ nice of Richie to warn me. _

 

Because of the cold, he only showered for as long as it took him to feel clean again. It was still a considerable amount of time, but nowhere near as long as he’d been thinking he’d shower once he was out of the sewer. He quickly dressed in the clothes that Richie had set out for him. The shorts were long on him and the T-shirt was baggy, but Eddie is just grateful that Richie hadn’t set out one of his atrocious Hawaiian button ups just to fuck with him.

 

When he got to Richie’s door he was shy in opening it, as if he expected a repeat episode of what had happened on the porch. With the shower having helped to clear his mind, he felt enough like himself to be like he normally was around Richie: annoyed with a thin layer of self-consciousness.

 

His eyes stayed focused on the floor as he opened the door, stepped into the room, and closed it gently behind him in one smooth movement.

 

“Oh, Eddie-bear,” Richie crooned. “You must be the cutest boy in the whole wide world.”

 

“Fuck off, Richie.”

 

“Nope nope nope,” Richie singsonged as he set down the comic book he was reading and stepped over to Eddie. He reached up, presumably to pinch Eddies cheek, which Eddie  _ hated _ and also expected enough to be able to slap his hand away. “I can’t help it Eds! You just look so darn adorable in my clothes. You’re gonna have to let me dress you more--”

 

“Quiet, idiot,” Eddie cut in, making sure to sound more exasperated than he actually was. “I need you to tell me what happened.”

 

An expression of panic flickered across Richie’s face before being replaced with a mock-flirtatious grin. “Why Eds, wouldn’t you rather hear the news about me and your m--”

 

“I’m serious, Richie. Tell me, before I go crazy trying to guess.”

 

“I called the other losers while you were in the shower. We’re all meeting in the barrens tomorrow, first thing. Can’t this wait until then?”

 

“What? No! I spent all day stumbling around in the sewers worrying that all of you might be  _ dead _ only to figure out you all left me alone and I deserve to know why.”

 

Richie knew he couldn’t win when faced with Eddie’s stubbornness. “Okay, just… let’s start with what you remember.”

 

Eddie frowned. He didn’t like how much effort it was taking him just to recall the past day or so. “I remember Henry and his gang, chasing us down into the sewers…”

 

Richie nodded.

 

“I remember leading everyone through the tunnels, finding that  _ door,  _ going into It’s lair, and then...everything goes fuzzy,” there were no details in his mind of what happened next besides the vague sense of reaching for his aspirator. “I found a missing poster of myself on the way over here. How long was I in the sewers?”

 

“Uhhmmm…” Richie tried to stall. He was no good at lying to placate. “The important part is, you’re out of the sewers now?”

 

Eddie was not impressed. “How long, Richie?”

 

“Don’t freak out.”

 

_ Oh God, it’s bad, isn’t it? _

 

Richie could read the panic in Eddie’s eyes. “It wasn’t that long! Like, everyone else got out last night, so you’re what, a day behind?” It was a lie, of course. But how do you tell someone they’ve been missing for a week and that when they knocked on your door you were the only one capable of hearing it? Ben or Bev or Mike would explain tomorrow, and do a way better job than a trashmouth like him ever could.

 

“But what happened? Why did you  _ leave?” _

 

“It kind of…”Richie started. He seemed to be doing something he didn’t do often; each of his words appeared to be chosen carefully. “During the fight, the ritual, It knew that It was going to lose. It might’ve won if Bill was fighting it alone, but I had stepped in to help. Afterwards, Bev told me that It had been rearing up to attack me and Bill while we were distracted. But then, well, you stepped in with your aspirator and said--”

 

“‘This is battery acid, you slime…’”he remembered the words but couldn’t hear himself saying them.

 

Richie smiled, but not in a happy way. “Yeah, and, after that, do you remember anything?”

 

“No,” Eddie said flatly, trying to focus his mental energy on remembering to no avail.

 

“Well, Pennywise kind of...uhm...grabbed you. Yeah, he grabbed you. And Bill and I kept going with the ritual, and It was losing. But when It left, when It was retreating, hopefully to go curl up and die, It dragged you with It down the well and we… we couldn’t follow,” Richie was shaking. He felt bad for lying to Eddie, he truly did. “You screamed, and then it got cut off abruptly and we all thought…”

 

Eddie could feel his throat closing up again. How could he have forgotten all of this? “Richie,” he said desperately, he could feel water gathering in his eyes. “ do you think It killed me? Do you think I’m--”

 

“No, no way, Eds. I mean, you’re here now, aren’t you? I think It  _ wanted  _ to kill you. But I think that It must’ve died before It could. I think that maybe, since we weakened it, either it died from its injuries or the Turtle finished it off, something like that. But of course, none of us knew that then. We just knew that it was hopefully dying, and that we couldn’t hear you calling us anymore, and that we had no way to get down that well, and that Stan was still losing a lot of blood…” Water was gathering in Richie’s eyes, too. “I-I didn’t want to go, none of us did. But it felt like there was nothing else we could do…we thought you were gone…”

 

Eddie tried to brush away the pain, the nagging thought that his friends had left him left him  _ left him. They wouldn’t have done it if they had a choice,  _ he promised himself. “So do you think It’s...really dead?”

 

Richie nodded solemnly. “ I don’t think It would’ve let you get out of the sewers if It wasn’t.”

 

“But, how did the rest of you get out of there without me to navigate?”

 

“It was the turtle, it showed Bill the way. And I think it must’ve helped you too, you know, healed your injuries, stuff like that.”

 

“I guess…” Something about Richie’s story wasn’t sitting with him the right way. It felt… too good to be true? He supposed that maybe, since the clown was too terrifying to have any right to be real, that maybe the Turtle had enough power to balance that out.

 

“Satisfied?” Richie asked.

 

“For now.”

 

“Well of course, I know you can’t ever get enough of me, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie waggled his eyebrows.

 

“Shut up,” he sighed with no real energy. He sat down on the edge of Richie’s bed.

 

“Is someone finally ready to go to sleep?”

 

“Maybe,” Eddie murmured, grabbing a pillow and sinking to the floor.

 

“Uh-uh,” Richie said, then slipped once more into his Southern Belle voice, “What kind of hostess would I be if I let my only guest sleep on the floor?”

 

He didn’t have to tell Eddie twice. He immediately curled up in on Richie’s mattress, sighing as he settled into comfort which he hadn’t known for over a day now.

 

All of that was quickly interrupted by Richie, who, after turning out the lights, lifted the blankets to join Eddie on the twin-sized mattress.

 

“No way, trashmouth,” Eddie said with as much protest as he could muster. Sure, He’d shared beds with Richie and Bill and Stan before, but he was thirteen now. That was it, he was too old. He was too old and he didn’t like the way that even the mere concept of sharing a bed with Richie Tozier made his stomach feel.

 

“C’mon, Eds,” Richie said, sounding a bit vulnerable, which Eddie hadn’t expected.

 

“Why, so you can call me cute and kiss my cheek and make wisecracks about how we ‘slept together’ to everyone tomorrow?”

 

“No,” Richie said, feigning hurt. “Uhm. I just…” he paused for a very long moment before finding the will to continue. “Last night, I went to sleep thinking you were dead. And I had nightmares…”

 

_ They didn’t want to leave me down there, they had no choice.  _ He wanted to tell Richie that he knew that, and that since this whole mess with It had started, he’d had nightmares, too. He was too tired to do it right now, though. And too tired to protest as Richie slid under the blankets and lay beside him, apparently having interpreted his wordlessness as an okay. 

 

“Fine,” Eddie said without opening his eyes. The words were heavy in his mouth. “You better not try anything.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Eddie my love.” Richie said, and since Eddie was too close to unconsciousness to fight back, they both then silently fell away into dreamlessness. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie gets caught in a lie.

The next morning, Richie awoke to the faint brush of fingers across his forehead.

 

“Good morning, Richie,” his mother said gently.

 

Richie attempted to roll over but found his path blocked by Eddie.  _ Oh Shit, Eddie.  _ He sat up quickly, relieved to see his friend was still asleep. Then his eyes travelled to his mother, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Uhm… about Eddie,” he tried to explain.

 

“Was there any news about him? Is that why Bill was trying so hard to talk to you last night?”

 

_ She can’t see him, either,  _ he realized.  _ Shit. _

 

“No, I just…”  _ Oh god, what if he wakes up now and notices my mom can’t see him?  _ “I miss him a lot is all…” he finished lamely.

 

“Oh, Honey,” his mother’s hand lovingly cupped his cheek. “I know how hard it can be, missing a friend. But it’s only been a week. They’ll find him, I’m sure of it.”

 

_ You can’t really believe that, can you? When has a child that’s gone missing in Derry ever been found alive? Or in one piece for that matter. _

 

He glanced back down at Eddie. “I know,” he said flatly.

 

His mother stroked his cheek one last time and then took her hand off of his face. “Go ahead and get dressed and then come down stairs for breakfast, alright? I made pancakes.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be down in a second,” As his mother turned and left the room he breathed a sigh of relief. It turned out to be premature, as Eddie woke up to the sound of Richie’s door closing a bit louder than Maggie had intended.

 

“Richie?” Eddie murmured softly, eyes still closed.

 

“It’s nothing Eds, go back to sleep, okay?”

 

Eddie’s eyes snapped open and then narrowed at him. “Don’t call me Eds,” he propped himself up on the pillows. “What time is it?”

 

Richie was suddenly aware of how close they were, how close they’d been all night. The flush from earlier still lingered. He flung himself out of bed. “It’s really early, you should really just go back to sleep.”

 

“Richie, there’s a clock right there, it’s almost eleven,” Eddie moved to get out of bed as well, and Richie held his hands out in a stop gesture.

 

“I’m gonna need you to stay up here for a bit,” Eddie looked less than thrilled at the concept. “My mom made breakfast and if I don’t come down soon they’re gonna drag me to go see a grief counselor.”

 

“Why can’t I go with you? I haven’t eaten for two days, remember?”

 

_ A week.  _ Richie realized.  _ A week with no food, and a day spent walking through the sewers, and I haven’t so much as heard his stomach growl. Last night he didn’t say a thing about being hungry.  _ “I’ll bring you up some food, after. But you can’t go down with me, my parents can’t see you.” Poor choice of words.”I mean, we can’t let them see you.”

 

“Why can’t we?”

 

“You’re supposed to be missing.”

 

“Yeah, for two days. Your parents know how my mom can be, it wouldn’t be too hard to convince them this was just her blowing things out of proportion.”

 

“Eddie, do you trust me?”

 

“No,” he scoffed.

 

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend you didn’t answer that so quickly. How about this, will you trust me for like the ten minutes it’s gonna take me to eat breakfast?” Richie took his glasses off of his nightstand and shoved them on his face, hoping that their magnification factor would make his eyes look extra-pleady. “Look, I promise I’m doing this to...uhm…”

 

“To what?”

 

_ Protect you,  _ Richie thinks. “To make things easier. First thing after breakfast we’ll sneak you out to the barrens and then seven of us can figure out what to do together, alright?”

 

Eddie didn’t think he’d ever seen Richie go this long without making a joke in his life. “Fine,” he muttered.

 

A smile broke out on Richie’s face. “There’s the Eds I know and love.”

 

“Let’s just get this over with, trashmouth.”

  
  


***

 

Eddie glared at the clock.  _ Ten minutes,  _ Richie had said. It was fast approaching twenty-five, and Eddie was tired of sitting up here waiting. That idiot had probably just lost track of time trying to do voices and chew food at the same time. And he’d just brushed off Eddie’s plan like it wasn’t even a viable option. There was nothing wrong with Eddie’s plan. In fact, Eddie decided that he would prove it to him.

 

He crept down the stairs and turned into the dining room. The first thing he registered was the look of utter dread painting Richie’s features, the second was that Richie hadn’t touched the stack of pancakes in front of him. The minuet they made eye contact, Richie blanched. He shook his head. If Eddie had known it was going to be like this, he would have stayed upstairs, but it was too late now.

 

Wentworth and Maggie Tozier hadn’t seen him yet, there were both facing their son. Maggie's hand reached for his wrist as she spoke, voice dripping with concern. “....and it’s okay if you can’t talk to us, honey. We just know that you should talk to someone after everything that’s happened. We can tell it’s weighing on you.”

 

Eddie hated to interrupt, but at this point, they were seconds away from noticing him anyways. “Uh, Mr. and Mrs. Tozier?” he started off, voice uneven. 

 

“Richie,” Wentworth said, “It’s okay to need help, especially in times like these.”

 

They must not have heard them. Eddie cleared his throat. Richie shook his head ‘no’ again. “Mr. and Mrs. Tozier,” he repeated, more loudly this time.

 

“Baby, it is okay,” Maggie said, presumably responding to Richie’s head shake. “Your friend is missing. There’s a lot of uncertainty, alot of…”

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Tozier?” Maggie continued to talk unphased. Something was wrong.

 

“...but when Eddie comes back, it’s going to be best if you’re able to..”

 

“Richie?” Eddie pleaded. “RICHIE. What is going on?” He’d screamed, and not even that had phazed Richie’s parents. But Richie’s knuckles were white.

 

“...when bad things happen sometimes the only thing we can do is--”

 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Richie said, and sped up the stairs without another word.

 

Eddie ran after him, Maggie’s cries to come back lost at their heels.

 

Richie slammed the door closed behind Eddie. Eddie tried to stand still, but he was shaking uncontrollably. “What the hell was that,” each word was more difficult for him than the last.

 

Richie stared at the ground. “They can’t see you, Eds. Can’t hear you either.”

 

_ I noticed,  _ Eddie wanted to scream, but instead he sank to the floor. He remembered the hours before they had gone into the sewers, the way every adult in Derry seemed to stop truly noticing that they were there. The way every interaction was met with glazed over looks and absent replies. It had been like they were fading out of existence. But now, Eddie was truly all the way gone. “What happened to me, Richie,” it came out just above a whisper.

 

Richie opened his mouth, then hesitated. 

 

“I already know it was bad, Rich, just...just tell me the truth this time.”

 

Tears started to make their way down Richie’s cheeks. “Eds, I wanted-- I was gonna tell you, I swear, I just wanted to wait until we got to the barrens. I figured, with Ben and Mike around, they’d be able to help you, you know, cope with it. I’m no good at that stuff, you know I’m not.”

 

Richie crying wasn’t a common sight, but this time, Eddie was more concerned about what this meant for himself than for his friend. “I need to know. I need to know  _ now.” _

 

It was the anguish in Eddie’s voice that had Richie trapped. Against his better impulses, he started to explain. “When you… when you did the battery acid thing. You hurt Pennywise. You hurt It real bad Eds, so It...It hurt you back. You slipped and-- and your arm fell into its mouth,” Snot started to dribble down Richie’s face along side the tears, but neither of them really noticed. “It tore your whole arm away. And you-- you lost so much blood-- too much…”

 

Memories, vague and heartbreaking slammed though Eddie’s mind. The absence, the gore, the feeling of floating. He remembered Richie holding him, Bev cinching a tourniquet around the stump that used to be his arm. He remembered that it didn’t feel  _ bad.  _ There was something about it, something horribly seductive. He heard himself say something in the memory, but he couldn’t make out what. He remembered fighting to keep his eyes open, then closing them, just for a second, just to think...and then there was nothing. And then he was waking up the next day with no memories of what had happened to him.

 

_ You died Eddie,  _ his mother’s voice said in his mind.  _ I tried to warn you, tried to  _ protect  _ you, I  _ knew  _ you were delicate. But you didn’t listen to me and you ran off with your dirty friends and it got you killed Eddie,  _ killed _! _

 

“Just like Georgie,” he stated emotionlessly. And of course it had been. All summer, ever since their first trip down by the kenduskeag, Eddie had been thinking that he didn’t want to end up like Georgie.  

 

Richie looked away, tears still flooding down his face. After a long moment, he managed to speak again, voice bobbing up and down. “B-but you’re back now, though...that’s what matters…”

 

Suddenly, Eddie was furious and it gave him the strength to yell. “Back as  _ what _ , though Richie? No one can even fucking  _ see me!” _

 

“I can see you,” he offered weakly. “Bill could too, and I bet Stan and Bev and everyone else we’ve been with all summer will be able to, too.”

 

Eddie Kaspbrak wanted to hit something. Eddie Kaspbrak wanted to start screaming and never stop. Instead, he started sobbing. He was no stranger to death, he was from Derry, after all. The absence of his father had grown all too apparent in the past years, and Georgie’s death had left him shaken. But it was one thing for a few kids you didn’t really know from school to go missing, one thing to see your friend lose his brother, and an entirely different thing to lose yourself. There was something unnatural about this whole thing. You weren’t supposed to be left around to grieve for yourself, and yet, here Eddie was.

 

He slammed his eyes shut but the tears still leaked out, his breath ragged. He would’ve had to use his asperator a long time ago if he wasn’t, you know…

 

Out of nowhere there was the warmth of Richie’s arms around him, holding him so tightly it almost hurt. Eddie was still mad about being lied to, but this was a comfort he was too fragile to push away. So instead he held on as tightly as it could, praying that the world would disappear so that it wouldn’t matter that he had.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr
> 
> also this won't all be angst I promise


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie meet up with the rest of the losers in the barrens.

Eddie woke up without opening his eyes. The memories of what had happened faded back into his mind and put tension into his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

 

_ You’re dead, Eddie!  _ Its voice sang in his mind.  _ Dead, dead, dead.  _

 

Eddie turned over. Somehow he had gotten from the floor to a bed. He wanted to pretend it was his own bed, just for a minute. He wanted pretend he didn’t have memories, albeit vague ones, of dying in the sewer. He wanted to pretend Derry wasn’t cursed and that he truly did have asthma.

 

But Richie said his name, and he was just as stuck with reality as he was with the boy with coke-bottle-lense glasses. He opened his eyes to find himself staring at the blank wall that Richie’s bed was pushed up against. “I’m awake,” he admitted.

 

“How are you, you know, holding up?” Richie didn’t sound at all like his usual self.

 

“Let’s just go to the barrens,” Eddie decides. Maybe Richie was right, maybe once they were all together they could figure something out. And even if they couldn’t, he wanted to see his friends again, wanted to know that they were alright even if he wasn’t.

 

Richie managed to get past his parents by promising he’d come back ready to talk to them later. Eddie just went straight for the door. He couldn’t stand not being able to be seen by them. It was so wrong, so unnatural. He wondered if that made him like It. It wasn’t the first time he’d had thoughts like that but now they were stronger, harder to brush aside. Eddie was dead, and only certain people could see him. There was a word for that. Ghost.

 

He remembered watching  _ Poltergeist   _ on VHS with Stan, Bill, and Richie last summer. He remembers being horrified, thinking that maybe his mother was right to ban him from watching scary movies. He remembers Richie offering his arm, teasingly saying that he’d protect Eddie. Eddie had promptly told him to fuck off. He remembered Richie’s arms around him an hour or so before now. He felt so weak, so scared. He had to get over it though, he had no choice. He would go crazy if he let himself, surely he’d inherited some sort of predisposition for it from his mother. 

 

This entire summer, he’d grown used to being afraid. But he couldn’t help but notice his fears were different from his friends. Sure, in a way, he was afraid of his mother, and in a different way, he was terrified of the clown, and almost offended at the wrongness of It. But more than that, he was afraid for, and of, himself. Especially now. He’d died, hadn’t he? And while he hadn’t gone to hell the way he’d so often feared he would, this far from heaven. 

 

His thoughts swarmed and suffocated him on the walk to the barrens. Richie’s words seemed to move right past him. Part of the way there, he realized how close Richie was walking to him. He promptly moved half a step away.

 

***

 

It was a beautiful day, the way the light filtered through the trees was beyond picturesque, and Eddie wished that he could feel the sunshine against him. Being cold came with being dead it seemed.

 

Richie spoke up into the silence caused by one of his failed jokes. “They should be waiting for us in the clubhouse. We’re running late but hopefully they’re still there.”

 

Eddie said nothing. The sound of their footsteps crunching over brush filled the silence.

 

“They’re going to be so happy to see you, you know,” Richie offered.

 

“Yeah, if they even  _ can  _ see me,” Eddie spat back. He didn’t like this version of Richie. He would never in a thousand years admit it, but he preferred the Richie who was always joking around, seriousness and pity just didn’t fit his best friend.

 

“Well if they can’t, they’ll sure be missing out,” Richie said, taking a lighter tone. “I for one don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t get to see that cute face of yours everyday,” he accentuated the sentence with a pinch to Eddie’s cheek, which was quickly slapped away.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie said, but at the very least, Richie was an idiot who made things feel a little bit better.

 

When they arrived at the clubhouse, Richie stomped on the roof. “Knock-knock,” he shouted.

 

Bill immediately poked his head out of the door. “Richie, I sw-swuh-swear if you d-dragged us all out here just t-to--” he cut off abruptly as his eyes made contact with Eddie’s.

 

“Surprise,” Richie announced.

 

Bill immediately pushed himself out of the whole in the ground, looking just as pissed as he had sounded upon encountering Eddie yesterday. “It w-w-wouldn’t be if you’d l-let me w-wuh-warn you yesterday.”

 

“Oh, Eddie filled me in on the whole sewer encounter thing. However, seeing as he’s no longer calling to you from a storm drain and also that I’m here to vouch for him, I figured there’d be a better outcome this time.”

 

“So w-wuh-what, he just muh-magically c-came back to life?”

 

“Not exactly,” Richie tried to explain, but Bill spoke over him.

 

“D-don’t you t-thuh-think it’s a l-little t-tuh-too good t-to be t-truh-truh-- goddamn it.”

 

Beverly then stuck her head out of the clubhouse’s entrance, the speckles of sunlight that filtered through the trees seemed to set her hair alight. “What are you two bickering abou..t…” her voice trailed of, eyes widening as they landed on where Eddie stood awkwardly to the side of Bill and Richie’s conflict. “Eddie?” her voice was quiet with disbelief, she blinked several times, as if expecting him to disappear. When he didn’t, she ran for him, heedless of Bill’s stuttered attempt at warning, and threw her arms around him, with no attempt at being gentle. The pair of them almost toppled over. “Is it really you?” she breathed into his neck.

 

“It is,” he promised.

 

The desperation of Bev’s departure drew the other losers, one by one they crawled from the hole in the ground, and when they saw Eddie they rushed to embrace him just as Bev had. First Ben, then Mike. But when Stan emerged last, he paused. “What are you guys doing?” Genuine confusion and concern painted his features.

 

“Never heard of a group hug, Stan the Man?” Richie asked before flinging himself into the embrace, leaving Stan and Bill as the odd ones out. 

 

“I have,” Stan said hesitantly, “I just can’t see the reasoning behind having one right now.”

 

Bev took a half step back from her embrace with Eddie and gestured toward him. “It’s  _ Eddie,  _ Stan, it’s really him!”

 

Hurt made its way across Stan’s face. “What are you talking about?”

 

The realization hit Eddie like a bucket of ice water. “He can’t see me.”

 

Ben frowned at Eddie. “What do you mean he can’t see you?”

 

“Is this some kind of joke?” Stan asked, on the edge of hysteria.

 

Mike reached his hand out in Stan’s direction, as if to steady him. “It’s not a joke, Stan,” he said evenly. “Eddie really is here, just for some reason it seems that you can’t see him.”

 

Stan laughed in a way that sounded more like a bark. “Right, so Eddie’s back from the dead, and everyone can see him but me, I get it,” his eyes became tinged with red. “Fuck you, Mike,” he spat. “Fuck all of you if you think this is funny.” He turned and began to storm off, but Eddie started after him.

 

“Wait, Stan,” he shouted, as if a change in volume would make any difference when it came to the fact that Stan couldn’t hear him. He reached out to grab Stan’s shoulder, only to watch his hand slide through it as if it was made of air. Eddie stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the hand that had passed through Stanley as if it were radioactive.

 

Stan disappeared into the Barrens.

 

“Eddie…” Bev said, and something about the way she said it reminded him of his mother. There was an underlying implication that he was fragile. And he was, wasn’t he? Eddie was dead, a shadow. An absence of light, the tangibility of air.

 

***

 

Once everyone had settled back down, they sat together in the clubhouse. Eddie sat between Richie and Bill because they were the only ones not giving him that look of concern and pity.

That look that said,  _ There’s something wrong with you, Eddie-bear… _

 

He already knew there was something wrong with him. A lot of somethings, even. He didn’t need a constant reminder.

 

They waited in silence for a moment. Since it seemed that no one knew how to start, the responsibility fell upon Big Bill.

 

“I’m guh-gluh-glad you’re back, Eh-Eddie, I really am,” Bill said, the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.

 

Mike caught onto it, sharp as ever. “You think Eddie being back means It’s still alive, don’t you Bill?”

 

Bill nodded. “The tuh-turtle must’ve d-done this,” he explained. “Because he n-nuh-needs all seven of us here.”

 

“And if he needs all seven of us,” Bev realized with a paling face, “it must be to finish what we started.” 

 

Ben reached for her hand, to comfort her. He opened his mouth to say something and--

 

“Well you can go ahead and get that idea out of your mind before it lands you in Juniper Hill,” Richie fumed. “Since apparently a  _ week  _ was long enough for you to forget Big Bill, our last trip to the sewers didn’t exactly end so hot.”

 

“Wait, Richie, it’s been a week? You told me two days!”

 

“Yeah, yeah I lied. But consider this, I’m also the one trying to make sure there’s no repeat of last week’s suicide mission. If not for the Turtle deciding on a whim that maybe he shouldn’t let us die wandering around in the sewers, we’d all be--”

 

“He d-dud-didn’t save us on a  _ whim,  _ R-richie,” Bill cut in as firmly as he could, struggling against his stutter. “He pruh-probably s-saved us because we still n-need to kill It.”

 

“Great, so what you’re saying is if we go back down there and finish the job then the Turtle will have no need to make sure we don’t stumble around lost and blind until we starve to death.”

 

“We h-have to kill It. We’re the only ones who can.”

 

“No, Bill, you  _ want _ to kill it. You want to kill It because It killed Georgie, but it’s not worth it, all you did was get Eddie killed too and I’m not going to let that happen again. If you want, you can throw your own life away trying to get your revenge, or feel better about Georgie’s death, or whatever the hell this is, but you don’t get to go around using your friendship to get the rest of us to throw our lives away, too.”

 

Eddie could feel the anger wafting off of the two of them, and his seat between them had suddenly become very, very awkward.

 

“If that’s wh-what you think, then you just f-fuh-fucking  _ leave  _ Richie.”

 

“I  _ will,” _ Richie said indignantly, rising to his feet the best that he could considering the very low ceiling. He grabbed Eddie’s wrist. “I’m going and I’m taking Eddie with me.”

 

Eddie tried to pull his wrist from Richie’s grip, and when it was to strong for him to break through he even tried to phase through Richie’s hand the way he had with Stan’s shoulder, but it didn’t work. “Rich…” he said.

 

“Eddie, you’ve given up enough trying to help Bill, I’m not letting you give any more.”

 

“Richie, shouldn’t that be Eddie’s choice to make?” Mike said evenly.

 

“I--” Richie started.

 

“Please, if anyone should be going after It, it should be me,” Eddie insisted. “It can’t hurt me. At least, not anymore.”

 

“You really want to chance that, Eddie? Sure, it probably can’t  _ kill  _ you twice but I don’t think for  a second that It wouldn’t do something with those  _ deadlights--” _

 

“Well if It does then it does, Richie,” Eddie shouted. “But at least then I’ll have gotten hurt doing something instead of sitting around pretending I’m too  _ delicate  _ to accomplish anything. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing just like everyone else always has. It’s the only reason that It’s still here in the first place, people not being willing to do anything about It is probably the main reason I--” he couldn’t say it. “...got hurt.”

 

“See, you say it’s about that but I’m not convinced this isn’t just you trying to impress because you’ve got some ridiculous, hero-worship-y crush on Bill.”

 

Eddie looked like he’d been slapped. He tried once more to escape Richie’s grip and failed. Richie’s eyes softened, he just barely let go. “I mean-- I didn’t mean it like--”

 

He was cut off by Eddie shoving past him, and then, in one quick movement, escaping into the barrens. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading <3 feel free to hmu on tumblr onceyoukaspbrakyouneverkaspback.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's Not Happy about what Richie said.

Eddie sat on the pavement outside of Mr.Bowie’s pharmacy, fuming. He knew what had brought him there but didn’t want to think about it. So instead his thoughts chanted Richie’s name. Who the hell did Richie think he was, saying something like that? Trashmouth Tozier may have been notorious for crossing lines, but he’d never crossed that one in particular. Richie knew more than anyone how often Eddie got called a queer, a girly-boy, and a faggot. Sure, Henry Bowers threw around the word faggot like it was confetti, but it bothered Eddie more than it did Bill or Stan or anyone else. And it bothered him that it bothered him. It bothered Eddie so much that even It could tell. Richie and Bill knew all about the time the Leper had chased him around offering a blow job, and Richie still had the nerve to--

 

Eddie kicked at the quarter lying on the sidewalk in front of him, and when that didn’t get it far enough away he picked it up and chucked it to the other side of the street. Just because people called him queer didn’t make it true. He did not have a  _ crush  _ on Bill Denbrough. He supposed that he didn’t have a crush on anyone. He knew that Bev was beautiful, that was clear as day to anyone, but he felt nothing like the desire and longing that was ever-present in the eyes of Bill and Ben. He’d had the occasional thought about Greta Bowie, although that was before she wrote the word ‘LOSER’ on his cast in permanent marker. But even putting that aside, there was still a difference between admiring someone’s appearance and actually wanting them.

 

A nagging voice in the back of his head insisted that it wasn’t normal to not have a crush on any girls. It didn’t exactly matter now, though. He was fairly certain Beverly Marsh was the only girl on the planet who could see him.

 

Weren’t things in his life already shitty enough without Richie around to make them worse? He was dead, the thing that had killed him was presumably still out there, ready to kill more children, and more likely than not he’d have to go back to the sewers in attempt to finish the job and hope that the rest of his friends were luckier than he was. And by the sound of things Richie wouldn’t be joining them. And not only that, but he’d had the nerve to try and say Eddie wouldn’t want to go back either. Of course he didn’t  _ want  _ to, but he would. His friends needed him. Derry needed him and he couldn’t just sit back and pretend he couldn’t do anything when he was one of the few people who could. And if Richie thought he was the kind of person who would turn his back on that, then-- then fuck Richie Tozier and everything that he’s ever thought. It’s not like Eddie cared what Richie thought of him. So why was he so bothered by all of this?

 

Ever since he had died, Richie had been treating him  _ differently _ , and, well, Eddie didn’t like it at all.

 

Before Eddie could think on that any further, Richie himself skidded up on his bike. He slammed his feet on the ground to bring himself to a stop. “Uhm,” he said, nervously brushing curls off of his face, “hiya, Eds.”

 

Eddie’s lips formed a pout and he let out a small huff as he deliberately turned to face away from Richie.

 

Richie’s heart sank. “Eddie, please don’t be mad…”

 

“Oh? And why shouldn’t I be?”

 

“I-I mean… I didn’t mean for what I said to sound like...you know, that.”

 

Eddie turned to Richie, still glaring. “So, you didn’t mean to claim that I can’t make decisions properly because I’m-- because you think I’m  _ queer _ for Bill?”

 

“Exactly!” Richie said, his energy coming back to him. “And like, obviously I don’t really think you’re queer for Bill, cause I mean, let’s be real, if anyone’s worth being queer over in our group it’d have to be yours truly.”

 

“Is that so,” Eddie deadpanned.

 

Richie flushed. “N-- I mean. Look, Eddie. I’m just--” he looked miffed. “Are you really going to take anything that I say seriously?”

 

Eddie wanted to stay mad, at least for a little bit longer, but he could feel the emotion deflating. Not meeting Richie’s eyes, he muttered, “I guess I shouldn’t…”

 

“That’s the spirit!” He stuck out his hand. “Now get up here and ride double with me, we’ve got places to be.”

 

Eddie stood up on his own, pointedly ignoring Richie’s offer. “We’re not going back to the Barrens, are we?”

 

Richie shot him a conspiratorial wink, and Eddie begrudgingly climbed onto the back of his bike, trying his best to hold on without circling his hands around Richie’s waist. Even now, he couldn't stay mad at Richie. Annoyed, sure. He was always annoyed with him in one way or another. Eddie tried to convince himself it was a good thing rather than a sign of weakness. His future was suddenly so uncertain, and as much as he sometimes hated Richie, he needed him, and as many friends as he could get.

 

Richie’s bike sped down the streets of Derry, not as fast as Silver, but fast enough for Eddie to feel that familiar rush of apprehension mixed with excitement. He closed his eyes, feeling the wind in his hair. Everything was going to shit; he was in no position to be turning down the simpler comforts and familiarity that the boy in front of him could offer.

 

*******

Richie tried to ignore the cold of Eddie’s hands, which just barely gripped at his sides. He was fighting back a smile, he couldn’t believe that, even now, he could patch things up with him so easily. He assured himself that by the end of the day Eddie would have had such a good time that he’d never be able to even  _ think _ about going back into Derry’s sewers.

 

They came to a stop in the back parking lot of the Aladdin, Derry’s only movie theater. Eddie looked hesitant. “There’s kind of a lot going on right now, Richie. I don’t know if a movie’s a great idea…”

 

“Everything going on means a movie is a great idea, Eds,” He dismounted from his bike and stood next to Eddie, flinging one arm around Eddie’s shoulders and gesturing with the other. “Just imagine it, everything going away for a few hours. No responsibilities except to sit back next to the handsomest guy in Derry and have a few chucks. We can see anything you want,” a thought struck him. “Well, except the one about the teenage werewolf… What’d’ya say?”

 

Eddie, not unkindly, removed Richie’s arm from where it rested on his shoulders, and then glanced around. “I guess I’d say, when’s the handsomest guy in Derry getting here?”

 

Richie tilted his head back in a laugh. He loved the way it sometimes felt like you could bounce back from anything with the power of a few jokes. He tried not to think of the week he had spent without Eddie. How, try as he might, he could not work himself into a joking mood. The important thing was that Eddie was back now, and that there was no way in hell Richie would let him slip away again. “I’ll give you that one, Spaghetti Man,” he said as he walked his bike over to a row of bushes and set it down there. “Now, come on, what do you want to see?”

 

Eddie started toward the front of the building, “Why don’t we see what’s showing?”

 

Richie caught him by the arm. “I was sort of hoping you could, uhm, help sneak me in the back entrance? I kind of don’t have any money…”

 

Eddie huffed. He should’ve expected. “And how am I supposed to do that?”

 

“Well...you see…” Richie tried to think of the best way to phrase what he said next. “I figured you’d just, you know, go through the back doors and then open them up from the inside for me?”

 

“Go through?” then it dawned on him. “Richie…” he didn’t know whether to be annoyed or scared. “I can’t walk through walls, I  _ can’t.” _

 

“That’s the thing, you totally can. Don’t pretend like all that movie watching and comic book reading was for naught. You’re a ghost, plain and simple. That means you can walk through walls.”

 

“Don’t call me that. And this isn’t a movie or a comic book, this is real, I’m  _ real,”  _ he tried to push away the memory of his hand sliding through Stanley’s back, and of Mr. and Mrs. Tozier’s glances that went right through him. “I can’t just… I’m not just…”

 

Gently, slowly, Richie laid a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I know,” he said. “I know this whole thing is a hell of a lot harder for you than it is for me. But that doesn’t mean I’ve had an easy go of it, I was the one who had to hold you while you-- but now you’re back, and all I want to do is see a movie with my best friend and figure out if, at the very least, we can get into the movies for free because even though that does nothing to make this whole thing any less awful, its at least something, and, also I spent all my money buying cigarettes from a hobo.”

 

“I thought Bill was your best friend…”

 

“Oh, he’s a close second in everything but the looks department, cutie,” Richie punctuated the sentence with a pinch to Eddie’s cheek, which was quickly slapped away. He figured that would go over better than explaining that Eddie’s death, and more specifically, the fact that Bill could at least partially be blamed for it, had left a hole in the heart of Richie and Bill’s friendship.

 

“Alright, alright if you cut that out, I’ll try it.”

 

Richie’s face split into a grin so wide that it looked painful. “This is gonna be so cool.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

They headed to the doors, they were the kind that only had handles on the inside. Eddie stood in front of them for a second, inhaling deeply.

 

_ There’s no way I can do this. I’m gonna look like an idiot. _

 

He reached his hand forward slowly, like the door might burn him. His stomach fluttered in anticipation. And then...his fingers pressed against the door. Solid. Just like he knew it would be.

 

“C’mon, Eds, you have to like, focus, or something.”

 

“Focus on what?” he continued to stare at the door intently, hearing Richie shrug behind him. He closed his eyes, trying to think of how it had felt to watch his slide though Stan’s shoulder. But to be honest, it had felt  _ awful. _ It made him feel wrong, sick. Apprehension clawed at him. There was no way he could do this, no way, and even if he could, he didn’t  _ want  _ to.

 

“Holy Shit, you’re doing it!” he could hear Richie’s smile.

 

Eddie opened his eyes to see that his fingertips had disappeared into the metal surface of the door. Hesitantly, he moved forward watching his arm slide deeper and deeper in. His stomach twisted in something like disgust. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and took two large steps forward. When he opened them again, he found himself in the back hallway of the Aladdin, almost as familiar to him as his own home. He turned around, hands slipping through the door on his first attempt but then catching as he regained control of himself. He opened the doors to reveal a beaming Richie Tozier.

 

“Lord ahl mighty,” Richie said in his Southern Belle voice. “I do believe this is just the type of chivalry that could make a girl fahl in love.”

 

“Just shut the fuck up and get in here, Trashmouth.”

 

*****

  
  


Eddie would be hesitant to admit it, but Richie was right. A day at the movies turned out to be just what was needed to take the edge off of what had happened in the barrens. First, they snuck into a detective thriller that neither of them had bothered to check the title of as they entered the screening room. The movie was already well underway, but that didn’t matter. In a way, the movie was just background noise to their conversation. Richie got a few glares and confused looks because of his stage whisper, and the fact that it looked like he was talking to himself. He encouraged Eddie to be as loud as possible, because it was only fair to take advantage of the fact that he could. At first Eddie didn’t want to, but as the movie went on he found a certain thrill in the fact that he could yell at the screen as much as he wanted to without facing admonishment. He tried to push aside the part of his brain that  _ wanted  _ to be scolded, that begged for a flashlight beam to be pointed at him by a disgruntled employee, just as a reassurance that he existed, and that more than five people could see him.

 

Richie made a joke of accusing every person that came on screen of being the killer. He leaned in especially close as he whispered. “It’s the brunette, Eddie, I know it is! Look at that glint in his eyes!”

 

Eddie sighed in fake exasperation. “That’s one of the  _ detectives _ , Richie, he can’t be the killer.”

 

“Are you kidding me? That’s the perfect cover!”

 

“There’s no way you could investigate a string of your own murders so intently. You’d get bored. Or slip up by mentioning something that you’re not supposed to know. Besides, aren’t serial killers supposed to be really proud of what they do? Does he  _ look  _ proud?”

 

Richie slipped into a shitty British accent. “Are you doubting my detective skills, Watson?”

 

Eddie scoffed. “ _ Yes.  _ I’m also strongly doubting that you’ll ever be able to do a decent British accent.”

 

“Oh, you think you could do better?”

 

“I think a dead dog could do better, Richie.”

 

“Yeah? Prove it then.”

 

A flush rose on Eddie’s face. “I-- unlike you I don’t enjoy sounding like an idiot.”

 

Richie shook his head. “No one here can hear you ‘cept me. So I suggest you either fess up to being no good at voices or prove me wrong.”

 

“I wouldn’t know what to say…”

 

Richie turned to him. “Say anything, Eds.”

 

Eddie breathed, trying to focus his energy on sounding as British as possible. “ _ Don’t  _ call me Eds. You know I-- I…” he paused trying to think of how to say ‘hate that’ in a British accent.

 

Richie’s eyes widened, only visible in the dark thanks to the magnification of his glasses. “Eddie, are you...messing with me?” his words oozed with concern.

 

“No,” Eddie grumbled, switching back to his normal voice. “That’s really the best I can do. I, at least, have the presence of mind to know that I’m bad at it.”

 

Richie regained his composure. “Don’t be too down on yourself, Eds. I’m sure with lots of years of practice and hard work, why, you could end up almost half as good as me.”

 

“I’m trying to watch a movie, dipshit,” Eddie pouted.

 

The rest of the film passed quickly under the commentary of their banter. At the climax of the movie, Richie gloated over having correctly identified the killer as the main detective’s son, conveniently ignoring the fact that he’d also incorrectly identified the killer as every other character in the film.

 

They talked all the way through the credits, and as they exited side by side, last out of the screening room, Eddie was struck with the realization that he did not want this to end. So he grabbed Richie by the wrist and quickly dragged him into the screening room across the hall while no employees were looking in their direction. Richie grinned behind him.

 

The next movie was a romantic comedy. They managed to catch it close to the beginning, not recognizing it for what it was until the protagonists had their first meeting, which was awkward and heavy with sexual tension. Eddie found himself flushing, then wondering how he could even do that since he was dead. He decided it was in his head, like the asthma. That realization did nothing to take the heat away from his face.

 

“Nice movie choice, Spaghetti,” Richie teased. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to woo me.”

 

“Just shut up and watch the movie, Dick.”

 

Richie, of course, did not shut up, but they did watch the movie together. It was cheesy and trite, but they found themselves enjoying it nonetheless. Eddie made a point of laughing as loud as possible while Richie tried to contain himself by clapping a hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t get kicked out.

 

When the credits began to roll, Eddie felt a pang in his chest. He leaned over to Richie.

 

“One more,” he whispered, halfway between saying and asking.

 

As the lights in the theater went up he saw the corners of Richie’s lips turn up. “Whatever you say, Spaghetti Man.”

 

“Well I also say stop calling me Spaghetti Man.”

 

“That I can’t do, I’m afraid.”

 

They stood up together and Eddie lead them across the hall and two doors down, quickly ducking them into a random theater when an employee made a sudden appearance. They moved up to the back of the theater, giggling for no real reason. It wasn’t till they settled down into their seats and faced the screen that the color drained out of Richie’s face.

 

In the dark, Eddie couldn’t see it, but he noticed Richie’s silence immediately. He frowned at the screen, examining the shot of a bunch of high schoolers-- wait.

 

“Richie… is this the one about the teenage werewolf?”

 

He nodded, eyes fixed in front of him, while they both thought back to the house on Neibolt street and the form that the clown had taken there.

 

“We can leave, if you want…”

 

Richie shook his head. “And stand you up on our first date?”

 

He caught the flash of hurt across Eddie’s face which meant he’d struck a nerve. He was usually alright about not truly upsetting him, but he guessed after this morning especially it was a little too soon to be implying Eddie was queer, even if the joke was partly self-depreciating. 

 

“Sorry,” he said the word as quickly as possible, getting it out of the way. Then he added, “I’ll be fine. I’ve got you here to protect me, don’t I?”

 

“Yeah right, Trashmouth, I’d feed you to the wolves in a second.”

 

Hand to his heart, he whisper-shouted, “Oh, Eds, you wound me!”

 

From what Richie remembered, they seemed to be about half an hour into the film. For all his talk, he was starting to regret staying. Every time he blinked, he saw Neibolt house and the teenage werewolf in the letter jacket baring his name. He had a strange urge to lift up the arm rest separating him from Eddie so that he could cling to him. He didn’t let himself though. That would only make him more scared. He would hold Eddie, feel how cool he was to the touch and remember the sewers, the heat leaking out of him as he bled to death, the look in his eyes, and the sentence he’d never gotten to finish.

 

The sentence. Richie had been obsessing over it since everything had happened. The only thing that had helped push it aside was the reappearance of Eddie himself. When he was around Eddie, it was easier to convince himself that he had been going to finish the sentence the same way he had a thousand times, the way he would have when he got stuck on it earlier while  he’d been trying a British accent. ‘Don’t call me Eds. You know I...I...’ (hate that). Eddie Kaspbrak had been forced to waste his last words telling Richie Tozier to not be such and ass. The thought stung him. But not as much as the thought that Eddie had hesitated, as if he was thinking, as if he was going to say something different, something important.

 

_ I’ve never bled to death,  _ Richie thought.  _ It’s probably very distracting. _

 

Richie tried his best to shove his discomfort aside and focus on making the movie funny for the both of them. Eddie instinctively scooted closer to him during the scarier parts. Richie was secretly thankful for the closeness, which helped calm his nerves, but he ended up teasing, “Come on Eddie, what kind of ghost is afraid of a little teenage werewolf?”

 

“I said don’t call me that Richie.”

 

It took Richie a moment to realize he’d meant the word  _ ghost _ , as he’d managed to call Eddie by a name he didn’t mind this time.

 

When the credits rolled, Richie was both relieved and reluctant to leave. His stomach and the promise he’d made to his parents put a stop to any thoughts of staying longer. He was however, happy to note that Eddie didn’t seem too thrilled about leaving, either.  _ Good. _

 

They retrieved Richie’s bike from the bushes, and Richie walked it home so that they could continue joking back and forth. Eddie found himself admiring the way Richie didn’t care one bit if he looked like a crazy person walking down the streets of Derry talking loudly at someone that no one else could see. He had to fight the smile forming on his face. Eddie realized then that he forgave Richie for lying about him being dead. If this afternoon had showed him anything, it was how great it would be to not be dead. Richie made him feel alive in a way that rivaled the influence of Bill Denbrough. Even though all these terrible things had happened, even though this had been one of the worst mornings he had ever experienced, Richie had found a way to turn it around, and not just make it suck a little bit less, but to allow him to glimpse genuine happiness for a moment. He would never say it out loud in a million years, but he loved Richie for that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too selfconscious to pester my bf/betareader so if you see any mistakes lemme know
> 
> also I'm onceyoukasprbackyouneverkaspback on tumblr
> 
> also comments and kudos make my day  
>  thanks so much for reading~

**Author's Note:**

> onceyoukaspbrakyouneverkaspback.tumblr.com


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